


Made for a king

by Verdin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, M/M, Slow Burn, black goo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 23:05:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17775923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdin/pseuds/Verdin
Summary: Let us delve deep into the past of a young man full of hate and explore how he became the fearful General Glauca.It all starts of with a man named Ardyn, Ardyn Izunia, but doesn't everything start out with him?We'll see where this journey takes us, because we all know the end of it, just not the path that lead there.





	Made for a king

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to you, @titusdravtos. See what you did to me. And yet I still remember you so vividly as Regis...  
> Thank you for being you <3

 

“Sir.”

The boy - for he was barely more than a boy - hit the floor hard, adding more scrapes to his already scratched knees. Titus held his head down. That much he had learned already in the brief time he spent here. The Empire seemed no different from those Lucian bastards already, but then, the men he was with were _soldiers_ , and those tended to be the same under every color.

It was hard to land gracefully with his hands tied to his back, but Titus bit his lip. _Be silent. Be strong. Be better than them._ The anger was still boiling in him. By now it felt like it always had been this way. Broken nails dug into the skin of his palms. He wouldn’t scream. They were not worth it.

“My.” Another voice, tone so wholly different from the rough barking of the uniformed men, and two ridiculously ornate boots stepping into his view. What foppish man studded his shoes with silver? They were heavy enough, made to trample down whatever foolishly tried to rise, but the overwhelming decor made them into something that _scared_ him. A man of power who could allow himself such boots was something else for sure. “He’s a big one, isn’t he?”

The voice was honey and poison, a preacher voice, not that of a soldier or politician, and the boy felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Becoming smaller, somehow, becoming one he once might have been for a few heartbeats.

“Says he wants to join, Sir. Says he’d do everything.”

“Where did you say you picked him up?”

The soldier told him, the sad little story of a lost boy they almost shot because they thought him a man and a warrior, a boy who begged them to join the fight against the Lucis.That they had laughed about him first, called him a fool. Had given him a sword then, to see how he fought.

“So, how did our young friend hold up?” A gloved hand rested on Titus’ head, caressing his short hair. “I’m sure he did rather well.”

“He did, Sir. Didn’t take him serious at first. Was a mistake.”

“How many dead?”

“None, Sir, but three wounded before we took him down. Was quite a, as you’d say, thing to behold. Immediately thought he’d be to your liking.”

“What a recommendable idea. I will be sure to remember it was yours.” Titus heard the smile in the voice, and the razorblades hidden beneath. The soldier didn’t seem to.

“Sir?”

“You may leave, good man. Take care of your troops, they’ll surely need a merry word and a drink or two. The day off for you and your unit.”

The clacking of heels, and a “Sir, thank you, Sir!”

“You may leave now. I’m sure we’ll two get along marvelously.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me. There is no need to worry. We’ll be sugar and spice and all things nice, won’t we, my boy?”

The hand forced a nod out of Titus, and it didn’t seem to take the slightest strain out of that strange _Sir_ so high above him.

“See? He’ll be a _very good boy_.”

 

 

Rhythmic steps told of soldiers leaving.

“Ah. Unnecessary cruelty. I was never a friend of it.” The golden voice danced through the silence of the room like a lost sunbeam. “It is such a waste.” He didn’t specify of what.

“You have a name? Or shall I just continue on calling you _boy_ ? I can do that, if it is what you prefer.” He waited patiently for a whole while. Titus pressed his lips shut tight. He did not want _this_. This was Lucis and maybe worse, and not what he deserved, and…

The hand was around his jaw all of a sudden, forcing his face upward. Eyes like coins, shining and serene, took a good look at him, and a mouth that was a little too curved curled into a smile. “Ah, a little hard of hearing, are we, _boy_? You may have to read my lips then. Do you have a name?”

The boy looked, and the boy saw darkness and fires behind the amber eyes, and the boy was scared, even more than before.

“Titus.” The boy said. “My name is Titus.”

 

*

 

His name was Ardyn, Ardyn Izunia, and he would from now on be Titus’ mentor, should anyone ask. _Please, Ardyn is more than enough for you._  
He seemed to be enamored with his name, telling great stories of dead heroes that shared it. Titus had never heard of them, and by all he knew of his parents, he was pretty sure neither had they. His grandfather perhaps, the hero of another, half-forgotten war that had cost him his leg and half of his mind, he might have known such things, but as it was, the boy had no alternative to listening to his _mentor_. The old man - but then, how old was he? Fourty? Fifty? To him, he felt ancient - liked to hear himself talk, but he wasn’t a bad storyteller, and soon Titus found himself waiting for his nightly visits at his bedside. He wasn’t a child anymore, he knew all too well, but there was a strange comfort in having the redhead sit beside him and tell forgotten stories like he had been there. It seemed there rarely was one who willingly listened, even if a small part of Titus only waited for the moment when that impossibly strong hand would close around his jaw again, force him into… into what? A kiss? More?

The wild thoughts that came afterwards filled him with disgust and arousal, and while he cursed himself for it, it still got him painfully _hard_.

The days were filled with training. His mentor attested him a lack in finesse, and after a few weeks, he had given up on the idea of making him a fine sword and decided to make him as big and blunt as possible. That was something Titus was comfortable with. Big and blunt and forceful, that was his way of existing, the way he felt useful, and he tried his best to show his mentor which steel he was forged from.

“Is this what you expected when you came here, Titus?” Ardyn asked him one night. The Titus in his story had just slain another treacherous king and delighted himself in making a point with his severed head, and the boy shook his own. He was even less of a boy now than he had been, wide and burly with a chest full of hair.

“Let me go, Ardyn. Let me go and wreak havoc in their ranks. Let me do it in your name.”

His mentor smiled, manicured fingers laying down on a calloused hand. The first gentle touch in months, and the boy felt the thing between his thighs throb against the blankets. _Fuck this. He needed to go out and get a woman, bury himself in her heat and spend himself until there was nothing left to give. He was not… it was a beautiful smile._

“You are not ready yet. I’ll not see you fall under their blades so easily. There are some things that might be done, you know? Dangerous things. Painful things. I dare not force them upon you, my sweet boy.”

“I’ll do everything that’s necessary. Everything.”

“You still will?” A long, somehow so very sad sigh. “Very well then. How can I refuse your wishes.”

 

*

 

“You need to be brave today, Titus.”

Izunia seemed unusually excited when he woke him. Had a servant bring breakfast to his bedside, breaking the usual pattern of waking, working out, having breakfast, taking a shower and going to lessons in combat or strategy, with an occasional bit of history and acting strewn in. The boy was being formed into _something_ , that he knew, but not exactly what it was his mentor had in mind. He sat up, trying to hide his morning wood, and rubbed his eyes.

“Brave, Ardyn?” Heavy brows furrowed.”When am I not?”

“When are you not, indeed, but this time you will have to suffer through pain without being able to defend yourself. I know it will be hard for you, but can you do this for me?” Mild worry in the tired eyes, and a sympathetic hand on the young man’s thigh. Titus just huffed.

“How bad can it be?”

A smile washed over the redhead’s face, one that was melancholic and too full of an emotion Titus could not quite place. Not with him, or anyone here. A sudden memory of an, in his child eyes, ancient lady in his village when she told him of the wars and all she had lost over the years. She had taken care of him when his own parents were out doing _heroic things_. That’s what they were doing, he still desperately wanted to believe so, and that they died as heroes in the assault on his home. In his memory, there wasn’t too much left of the way the village had been. His mentor’s stories had word by word transformed it into something out of myth, something with raw stones and swords and a forge and riders on dark birds, and it somehow was easier to stand that way. They were myths, and when he asked to have their names engraved on his skin, Ardyn was happy to oblige. Now they stood over his heart, first part of the armor to shield him against everything the world had to offer.

“ _Bad_.” A simple answer, for once, and the boy felt goosebumps rise on his skin. “Go and take a shower when you’re finished here. I’ll meet you in my office.”

_Wanna join?_

The words were out before Titus even had them in his head. They came straight from somewhere down below, and he saw the change in his mentor’s smile. It grew... _amused_? A sardonic expression he had never seen on the old man’s face

“I have work to do, my sweet boy. Now scuttle off, will you?”

Under the cold water, Titus cursed himself. It was not what he meant. No way. It could not. He groaned as the icy drops hit his skin, drawing blood everywhere but between his legs, and he started tensing his muscles methodically. Feet. Tense and relax. Calves. Thighs. Midriff. Shoulders. Noticed a tension that would not release there and tried again to no avail. He was _nervous_. That’s why he asked, and his mentor knew it very well, and there was no reason to be ashamed, not a single one. Shoulders. Tense and let go. Just let go. _It will be fine_.

He didn’t really know why he still was that way around Izunia, nervous and scared and somehow _bothered_. He had shown him nothing but kindness, but there still was an uncertain need to roll on his back and offer his throat. Some of the others felt it too. Titus had keen eyes, and as he watched his mentor interact with them, he saw it. A slightly hunched posture, gaze avoiding the golden one, voice not quite as full as it could be, their hands cold and sweaty.

He wanted to be like that too. Always enough of a predator to let it shine through every smile.

 

 

Izunia on the other hand, in the privacy of his rooms, had no problem to relax, his feet on his desk, half-assing some files. Briefly wondered why he still was amused by the big boy and the innocence that broke through the hard shell he so dearly tried to have.

Soon he had to admit to himself that he still sometimes _liked_ the role of the fatherly friend, even if it cost him to not make the jokes that presented themselves so eagerly. Berries waiting to be picked, but that could wait until the boy was in the place he intended for him. Titus was so wonderfully _focused_ on the single, already fading light on the throne of Insomnia that everything else was irrelevant. It was refreshing. Ardyn loved working with eager people.

  
“We’re going to meet a new friend of mine today, Titus. He’s a scientist, and a rather promising one. Just call him _Doctor_. Not that he is one, but he feels better if you give him the honors the universities denied him, and we want him to feel good about himself, don’t we? It is the least we can do for him.”

“And he’s competent?” Part of him wanted to ask more about this ominous ‘a friend of mine’, but he decided against it. Ardyn’s hand was heavy on his shoulder as they walked down into the lower levels of the complex. His mentor preferred a walk to taking the elevator, something about claustrophobia he couldn’t entirely get rid of, and Titus felt honored that he shared that one little weakness with him.

“Oh, he is. Can’t imagine a better man for the job. You may find him a little weird, but that may be a given in his profession. Don’t worry, I’ll be at your side.” The grip on his shoulder tightened.

“What is this all about, Ardyn? Isn’t it about time to tell?”

“You see, my dear boy, soon there will come the time where you take your leave. We will take care to make your wish come true.” A smile as the young man’s eyes grew wide. “But you will not only take down the king, but his whole kingdom with him. You’ll be the Emperor’s sword, and his hand will guide you. But you will have to be patient for a while longer. Study their ways from within, to know where to strike.”

“You’ll send me to _them_?” A sudden wave of anger, and Titus’ muscles tensed, shaking Ardyn’s hand from his shoulder. That earned him a chuckle.

“More than that even. I’ll send you to become a Glaive, my dear, and you will make your way through their ranks with ease. Earn the trust of the man you hate so much, of the man who has no idea Titus Drautos even exists, and you will be my eye and my ear in that forsaken place until it is finally time to strike, to purge the cursed blood --” The golden eyes were _glowing_ . Titus had never seen him like this. There was a _hate_ in him that was old and pure, and every word was a lovesong for the boy who lost everything to a single weak mortal, and for a heartbeat Titus wanted to just reach forward and place a kiss on those lips curled in disgust.

Izunia blinked. Chuckled as he caught his expression. “Ah, you must excuse. It is a bit of a personal matter, not only for you, but also for little old me. And of course you will serve Aldercapt, not this simple fool. Don’t we all?”

“You never mentioned it was so important for you? If--”

“If I had, it wouldn’t change a thing. Your revenge, my Titus, not mine. All I can do is to prepare you to the best of my possibilities, and that is what I shall do.”

The flame in his eyes was quenched, and still, something about him had changed. He felt more _alive_ , more _radiant_ than the sad old man Titus knew, and the grin he flashed as he dragged him down the corridors was one that made him blush.

 

 

The doctor was pretty enough, if one liked the type. A blond in his thirties, freckled and with a snub nose, the hairline already receding, and he welcomed Ardyn with a kiss on the cheek.

“See who I brought, Verstael. Have I promised too much?”

Even though the doctor was a good head smaller than the both of them, the look he gave Titus made him feel like a beetle facing a looking glass and a pin. “They feed him too much protein. Look at all that mass.” A pointy finger poked into the massive chest. “Take off your shirt and sit down over there. We need to check your vitals to see if you’re fit for the procedure.” The young man forced himself not to swap the scientist’s hand away.

No windows down here, just shimmering steel and very unpleasant looking equipment, all edges and razor-sharp blades and the green glow of little screens. New technology, looking like props from a science fiction movie, sturdy and under heavy glass so they could withstand… fluctuations of energy? Something like that.

“Hush, keep your fingers to yourself. Those are expensive.” The doctor shooed him away. “Be a good boy and sit.”

“Verstael, please. He’s a friend of mine.”

“Alright, alright. Then would you please take a seat, Mister…” A questioning gaze towards Izunia.

“Glauca. Captain Glauca.”

Titus blinked. Not his name, and not the rank a civilian would-- Ardyn’s encouraging nod vanquished the thought. It would make sense in the end, and-- yes. It was that movie with the submarine this place reminded him of, tiny and narrow and smothering, full of mysterious devices and metal surfaces. He sat down. Pulled his shirt over his head and didn’t fail to notice the approving twitch of the scientist’s eye. A moment of satisfaction that at least his pecs could shut him up. The doctor pouted as he was caught staring.

“Some basic tests, then we’re good to go.”

 

  
Besithia took his sweet time. Blood pressure and lung function and muscular responses to electric impulses and tolerance to various substances and an Ardyn that seemed more and more sorry to have brought Titus here, rolling his eyes as he looked to him. The doctor was a butcher, testing the quality of meat, and the young man felt the urge to set an end to this. A friend of his mentor? A mentor that was sitting there with his chin cupped in his palm, finger tapping rhythmically against his lips. He was thinking. Made a decision then.

“Verstael. Do you really doubt the choice I made?” The tiny speck of impatience in his voice seemed to hit a nerve in the scientist, and he grunted. “It will take the time it takes,” and yet, Titus noticed how he hurried up.

“If you wish to lie with him, my dear doctor, just _ask_ the good captain, but don’t steal our precious hours with unwanted and unnecessary touches. I have places to be.”

“Ardyn, I--” The blush in the freckled cheeks rose fast, and Titus bit the inside of his lip to stifle a laugh. This whole situation was bizarre, and his mentor being so… _unceremonious_ made it even worse. He felt his head swimming in chemicals.

“My dear Verstael, it seems even the years could not quell the eternal struggle of your brilliant mind against those very mortal aspects you claim to despise so much. Do you wish us to come back after you took care of those?” A slight tilt of the head, flews drawn up into a grin, and suddenly there was that deep-seated fear in the back of Titus’ brain again, the one that felt like lifetimes ago, and he got up, just knocking the slender figure in the white coat back like it was barely there.

“I’ll leave,” he stammered, and he did, leaving his shirt and the two men behind, Ardyn not even trying to hold him back.

He was weak.

Way too weak for this madness.

  
*

 

“You wished to talk to me, Titus.”

Amber eyes looked at him over folded fingertips. “Please. Sit.”

His mentor seemed caught up in some papers again, having coffee from a slightly stained mug, but for once, Drautos took his offer instead of mumbling something about being not willing to disturb and fleeing again. Took a hard breath.

“What was that, Ardyn? Glauca? And that doctor? What is all that shit?”

He had woken up angry, even through the meds they gave him during the tests, and his anger became only worse as his system turned poison into piss, and he had a hard time to keep himself from screaming.

“Ah. Yes. I have some explaining to do, but I’d much rather do that while you have a comfortable cushion under you. Please.” Excessive politeness seemed Ardyn’s way of rattling before the bite, that he knew by now, and so he sat. Watched the old man get up and get them two glasses. Filling them up with a clear brown liquid that smelled of spices and brown sugar, handing one to him.

“You know I don’t drink.” Nonetheless, he took a gulp, trying not to make a face. It had been Ardyn’s damn diet that forbade him that, and right now, he--

“Captain Glauca was a good man with a promising career in the Imperial military. His unit is lost, as is he, and he has been away from the capital long enough that nobody knows his face. Titus Drautos, on the other hand, will escape with a few interesting little secrets to join up with the shining goodness of Lucis, wanting nothing more but to serve them in their endeavours, because he has understood they are the right side.”

The heat that ran down Titus’ throat seemed to quench the rage in his throat, or maybe it was the faint hope that his mentor was saying what he hoped he was saying.

“And Captain Glauca?”

“Will keep on being on missions that lead him here and there, with him returning whenever his time allows to update the Emperor and, last but not least, little old me, and continuing his promising career, rising through the ranks.” Ardyn looked at him, eyes tight like an amused cat. “What is it, my sweet boy? Did you really think I didn’t want you by my side anymore?”

“Bullshit.” _Yes_ . Another sip, and another, and a grin. _Sweet boy my ass_ . He felt the heat rise into his head. Nobody had ever called him anything like that, and yet it was _him_ and Titus knew he had a face only a mother could love and _he_ wasn’t that, was he, and--

Reason demanded to put the glass away right now instead of emptying it, but the alcohol that was already rising to his head voted against that and won. A first, long overdue spirit of rebellion made him feel like a man, even before those honey eyes. “If I shall be your Captain Glauca, call me that way. Just so we get it right.” A triumphant gleam on his face.

Izunia cocked his head. Took a sip. “As you like, _Captain Glauca_ . As you _order_. As a poor civilian, how can I refuse?”

Titus drew air through his teeth. _Why did that feel so good?_ “Again.”

“Say you name, _Captain_ Glauca?” He chuckled and refilled Drautos’ glass. “Why stop there? You have potential for so much more. Let us say--” A slow step let him stand beside the young man’s chair, “-- _General_ Glauca? Doesn’t that sound just like it should? The mighty General Glauca, wreaking havoc among the Lucian ranks, unstoppable force of nature, forcing those that dare--,” he squatted down. Sank on his knees then, “--to withstand him to the ground, begging for mercy he will never give?”

Titus listened, and Titus drank, and the velvet voice lulled him in once again, only that this time, _he_ was the hero of the stories, and he was glorious and cruel, and he found his hand toying with the unruly crimson waves, like something under his skin was drawn there, resonating with a strange familiarity. Ardyn allowed it. Gracefully rose his head as Titus’ fingers dragged up his chin to get a look at him, blue eyes swimming in unwonted liquor.

“That doctor…”

“Verstael, my little general? He is nothing but a competent man and a servant of the Empire.”

“A friend, you said. And that is all?” His lips felt _off_ somehow, not forming the words quite right.

“That is all that remains, and all that counts for you. Worry not. I will make sure you will get what you need.”

“What if I want…” Titus’ thumb traced the bone under the old man’s eye.

“You don’t.” Melancholy rose on his features like shadows on a mountainside. “You want power, and that I will willingly give. Everything else is just a grand tale you tell yourself.” Gently, he pulled down the callused hand and placed a kiss on the palm.

“Were you a thing, Ardyn, you and him?”

“A _thing_?” A pained chuckle. “It was another life, and he… no, not another man, that would be a lie, but less of himself, and more bearable. Brilliant, even then, and driven, just like you. Then, I could not give to him what he truly wanted. I won’t repeat that mistake.” His fingers traced the lines in Titus’ palm. “Give a man that outlived all those he loved the opportunity to at least once fill somebody’s heart’s desire.”

“And… you _need_ him for that? For _me_ ?” His rough voice almost gave way. To see his mentor like that, tearing up old wounds like a pelican feeding its young, filled him with something as close to _love_ as it could be, and he bowed down and pressed his lips on the crimson hair.

“I fear,” Ardyn whispered somewhere below, “that we do.”

_Fuck_.

  
*

 

“I’ll be here to hold your hand.” The smile so bright, the voice so soothing. He could have sold him anything, including being strapped down to a table naked, with the doctor looming over him. “It will be fine, in the end. You’ll be more than any human, more than you could ever dream of.” Ardyn’s hands were warm on his shoulders, even through the latex of his gloves. Besithia had insisted on it. It was a surgery they were doing, even if it was off the books and any standards, and Titus flinched as the needle of the IV pierced the skin of his arm. The saline solution spread through his veins. leaving coldness. Leaving a prickling sensation as the doctor added anesthetic. _Count from one to ten._

“I love you,” he said instead.

“You don’t,” the smile answered, and was wrong, and was right, and Titus was gone.

 

He woke in a sea of black, warm and pulsing and sticky, a large being with its own mighty pulse throbbing around him, pulling him in, filling his vision. From a black sky into a black world. A black void that was empty and yet, full of voices if you only listened close enough, whispering and singing and screaming, and he knew he’d never be alone anymore.

_Inhale_.

The void filled him, not drowning him, but making him whole, making him _full_ for the first time in his life, quenching his desires and satisfying them at the same time, and he felt how he dissolved so very gently, his strong, stubborn heartbeat slowly dissolving into nothingness. He welcomed it, welcomed it more than the embrace of any lover he ever had. For a few moments, an experience of completeness, of utter _understanding_ of what was beyond the end, and that it would welcome him as a part of the whole, and he was happy, truly happy, for what felt like the first time.

A sharp pain as he felt how he was opened up. Watched his own red spiral out into the void, mixing with the black, becoming one. Watched in awe how it returned into him, made him a part of the _everything_ that was around him. Felt _pain_.

Screamed.

“A very slight overdose,” someone said. “We’ll fix that in a second.”

Gentle pressure around his hand. His _hand_. He remembered it. Stared. Watched void pouring into his vessels. Watched the skin being lifted away, sinews and muscle underneath. Strong. Sturdy. _That was him, and he was proud_.

A tiny strand of darkness was there, thick as a hair and wrapped around the base of his thumb, and he felt it being sewn through the muscle, tiny stitch by tiny stitch. It hurt like blazes, and Titus ground his teeth, bit down hard, until he felt them splintering against each other, turning into little pebbles and dust in his mouth, and he coughed and he swallowed to not choke.

 

“I wonder what he’s dreaming.”

Ardyn sat at the young man’s side, sipping coffee, and watched the black liquid drain into his veins. Titus lay still, occasionally twitching and whimpering, while his eyes danced under closed lids. “Think this one will survive?”

“Well, you brought some grade A beef. Way better quality than the last specimen we had. Have you already grown bored of your new lap dog?” Besithia lingered on the metal counter, playing absentmindedly with one of his rubber gloves.

“Are you envious, dearest Verstael? Of his youth? His wonderful single-mindedness that actually allowed him to follow the ridiculous training regimen I made for him? You would have grown bored of it in… half an hour, if you had a patient day.”

“And you raised him just for _this_ ? Ardyn, don’t try to play me a fool. We’ve known each other for too long. Did you _want_ him? Do you still?” He didn’t even try to sound hurt. Teasing and mocking was their main way of communication these days and the best they managed.

The redhead groaned. “Why is this all your kind can think of, my dearest doctor? Do you never get _bored_ of these so very base physical needs? I thought you of all people to be exalted over such silliness. Or is it just a rare feeling of nostalgia in your golden little heart?”

“Hard and yellow.” The latex tore, and Besithia laughed. “Of course. And you are vain enough to think I still care about anything but my project? In this case I love to disappoint you, dear _Mister Izunia_. As much as I enjoyed our time together, you showed me more important things.”

Ardyn got up for a mocking bow and more coffee. “My pleasure, _Doctor Besithia_.”

“Still. Why all the work with your little bulldog here?”

“He needed to get used to _me_ , Verstael. That may have been our earlier mistake. Build some resistance against a deadly infection before you… say, is there milk left?”

“In the fridge.” The doctor’s answer came slowly, his mind already elsewhere, caught in new ideas.

Izunia smiled. “Thank you.”

  


 


End file.
